009. Metamorphosis, 3
(Aïsshean)
As the lands beyond the rivers grew more hazardous and more hospitable, we saw new gathering of people after the cloud.
More survivors, from other pockets all over the continental crossings, now trailing along this hope, our hope, and the waves they carried.
Here and there cities crumbled before we arrived.
Sometimes haunted, sometimes hollow. Often coloured in ways of aerosols and cyanobacteria.
In the distances we wouldn’t cross, some events grew in stormy proportions.
Globes of darkness passed like distant bubbles carried by the winds. Thunder was flowing horizontally through them at times, as dusts were carried too.
Below our steps, my back appendages could shiver when detecting the growth of other things. I was softly opening to these new perceptions emerging.
The environment was changing, and things surviving the impact and exposure now could compete.
Resources of unclear nature were plenty, and odd ghosts were now spreading from that.
I saw roots scattering invisibly and rapidly like veins through the ground, as if an abnormally huge tree lived somewhere we couldn’t see.
It was still raw in synergies between fungi and bacteria along these radiating sensations, but eventually new species would come to be. There are so many other polymers that can still be metabolised.
And ahead of us, other humans heard the call again. Hopefully this road wouldn’t be as colourful and deadly as its previous segment.
We continued to repeat to ourselves endlessly our promises to our mother and grandmother, like a spell to keep us aware and sane.
We will carry our name...
However now our kin had become things spooky to the humans from before.
And we rushed, in fear and pity.
Not quite seeing what now made us lighter.
We managed to run more swiftly, ahead in the race, catching up finally with our meaning of the end.
Maybe it slowed down, or we ran faster.
A few thoughts remained in our continuously changing minds, and one conflicting thought.
The wisdom and wilfulness we promised to our mother and grandmother. In the name of Natessh Atassia Aïsshea...
My sights and foresight of ethical nature for reaching the source up there lost, and maybe calling indirectly for help.
And the conflicting deduction between my sisters, depending upon whether we could do something about it, and what.
From the hypothesis that we would reach the source, and find out that we do need to do something about it, now Azzie and Attie were beginning to debate, or even argue.
As - Destroy the weapon...
At - Transform the tool into something better...
The youth was rash in her perspective, but perhaps not wrong. If the source is a ticking bomb, we should just break it before it’s too late.
And the one passionate even more than I ever was about the biological reactions to challenges, she wants with idealism to turn even this threat into an opportunity.
Build antibodies instead of just curing. Turn your pain and weaknesses into advantages. Absorb your enemy to get some of his strength and power...
A very biological approach mostly wiser on what is only related to life.
What we aim for up there, I don’t think it’s just a virus to comprehend. I think it’s far more than an impact on life we can turn around simply being stronger.
Life will adapt anyway, but that source, I don’t know whether it is something we would be able to turn around from threat to neutral or beneficial.
I’m not sure at all a volcano can be tamed...
And that’s where my feelings or intuitions lean. Attie is right, but Azzie will be safer, most likely.
We stumbled again and again, arguing as we climbed these mountains together, feeling our bond stretching and our promises challenged.
We were so close, and yet beginning to lose each other from varying perspectives. I continued to fall forward, ever colder at the prospect of losing each other.
Movies of our opinions and shared memories continued to boil and stretch our ionic bonds. Our bodies bubbled, as we reached peaks were we could see the floating island’s stalactites again. They were more visible now.
But destruction and transformation kept arguing. To break the throne of god, or to sit a better one up there.
Something echoed from our familial oath, in Aïssheat’s thoughts and words. But I remained sceptical at her faithful prospect and budding plans for the future.
At some levels, in some circumstances, it’s clearly safer to destroy things than trying to take control of them, turning them around. For ourselves and the future, I want to believe in Aïssheat’s faith and optimism, but I will bet more on Aïssheas’s cautious violence until I learn more.
As we neared the castle’s moving chains, it dragged around like unsteady anchors, our disputes continued.
Aïssheat would bet on longer term future and more.
When Aïssheas herself had her last gasps and her body really began its collapsing cascades, I lost track of Attie.
As I held one’s hands in care, I lost sight and perspective of our other third.
Aïssheas’s body continued to melt and change between my hands. As if she entirely turned to tears, sharing her sensation of agony in that last common instant.
We were so close...
But I held her close to me, and didn’t give up on her yet.
~
